


All Through the Night

by jjsoc10



Series: Moments of Healing [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bucky needs a hug, F/M, Fluff, Nightmares, Reader Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-03
Updated: 2016-06-03
Packaged: 2018-07-11 22:53:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7073872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jjsoc10/pseuds/jjsoc10
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“James?” you say, blinking the sleep from your eyes to confirm that it is indeed Bucky Barnes sat on the edge of your bed. The knife vanishes from your grasp and you bring your arm back down beside you. “What are you doing in here?”</p><p>	He doesn’t answer, just furrows his brow and picks at the frays in your comforter. You take in the expression on his face and the deep, dark circles under his eyes. “Is everything all right?”</p><p>	He shrugs. “Can’t sleep,” he says flatly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All Through the Night

**Author's Note:**

> Another scene I've had in my head for a while. Also on tumblr (haloedbucky) and FF.net. Reader is based off a character I dreamed up years ago that I started writing about on FF.net - may or may not redo/continue that story. Feedback is always appreciated!

You’ve always been a light sleeper. Centuries of constantly watching your back, as well as the self-preservation instinct that comes with your powers, have forced you to be able to wake up instantly. So when you feel the dip of the bed beside you as someone sits down you react immediately and without thinking.

The knife materializes in your hand as your right arm swings up to rest the blade against the intruder’s neck. Whoever it is lets out a soft gasp of surprise, a sound you find oddly familiar –

“James?” you say, blinking the sleep from your eyes to confirm that it is indeed Bucky Barnes sat on the edge of your bed. The knife vanishes from your grasp and you bring your arm back down beside you. “What are you doing in here?”

He doesn’t answer, just furrows his brow and picks at the frays in your comforter. You take in the expression on his face and the deep, dark circles under his eyes. “Is everything all right?”

He shrugs. “Can’t sleep,” he says flatly. You nod in understanding.

“Nightmares?”

There’s a brief pause before he nods once. You sigh and rub your eyes. “James, I –“

“You get them too, right?”

You stare at him, slightly shocked. “Who told you that?”

“Steve,” he admits, rubbing the back of his neck with his flesh hand. “He said you helped him with his.” He still won’t look at you, keeping his eyes trained on your bedsheets.

“Yes,” you confess. “I do get nightmares. I’ve had them for a long time.”

“What are they about?”

Your head snaps up, because that’s _personal_ , but Bucky looks so much like a wounded puppy you can’t help but want to tell him. “Mostly people I’ve lost,” you say, studying his face. “When you’re as old as I am, there are a lot of those.”

His expression doesn’t change, but you can tell your words have an impact by the slope of his shoulders. You’re contemplating how to tell him nicely that you’d like to go back to sleep when he opens his mouth again.

“Mine are usually about people I’ve killed. It’s like when I close my eyes, I can see their faces. And I try to tell them that it’s not me, that I don’t want to, but…” he trails off, taking a deep, shuddering breath. “It always ends the same.”

Finally, his eyes flick up to yours. You feel a sudden surge of empathy at the amount of trust it must have taken for him to tell you that. Sighing, you peel back the covers and pat the bed beside you.

Bucky stares at you for a moment, not understanding. “Lie down,” you command gently, scooting over to make room. He complies, the puzzled expression on his face growing when you toss the covers over his body. “Is it all right if I touch you?”

He nods, watching you carefully as you tuck yourself into the curve between his chest and right arm. His metal arm lies awkwardly on his side; you realize that he doesn’t want to touch you with it. You reach up to grasp his left forearm, moving slowly to avoid alarming him, and pull it over your body.

“Are you okay?”

“What if…what if I hurt you?”

You snort, shifting slightly to get into a more comfortable position. “Don’t worry, you won’t.” After a few moments, you feel his body relax around you and his breathing even out. Ten minutes later, the both of you are out.

You get the best night of sleep you’ve had in a long, long time.


End file.
